Entwined
by BrokePerception
Summary: Minerva knew her incredibly well, and maybe that really meant something.


Unshed tears of happiness made clear hazel eyes glisten ── eyes that had only spoken of misery for so long, from feeling so powerless against the turn of events of her life. The war had taken a great toll on her as well as all the others. To this day she felt like she was still only attempting to cope, every day. Ron and she had only lasted for two months after their getting together right before the end of the battle. Their break-up had only put Hermione's emotions to the test as well, on top of what she had already been going through.

After just two months of being in more than a friendly relationship, both Ron and Hermione had realized that they just didn't have that 'click' that made the real difference between 'friends' and 'lovers'. Their relationship had always had a more pronounced brother-sister dynamic than anything. Both of them had felt 'something' and had wanted to give it a shot, but it hadn't been more than that after all.

Both Ron and Hermione had agreed that it would be best to end it then, but it had still put a strain on their friendship, and indirectly, also on Hermione's friendships with both Ginny and Harry. Ginny, especially, had been incredibly excited at the thought of them not only being best friends but also sisters-in-law.

It had only been several weeks since their break-up when Hermione received the news that her mother had Hodgkin's lymphoma and had only a very small chance to cure and survive. In the most hopeless of times after the diagnosis, Hermione never would have thought to find support with her former professor, now Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall. Only coincidence ── or destiny? ── had lead to both women running into one another that afternoon on Hermione's way back from the hospital. Mrs. Granger had had to stay there for two days after each chemo session, never strong enough to go home right away.

"I love you more than you'll ever know," Hermione whispered, as she stroked her fingertips gently down the Headmistress' left cheek as they lay in bed together.

Minerva McGonagall frowned slightly. Hermione said those words more often, of course, but she had discerned a small change of tone, and she was curious why. "I love you more than you'll ever know, too," she said, "but why do you say it that way?"

Hermione smiled as she felt the feelings she hopelessly wanted to convey to the headmistress, then got serious once more as she tried to look for words to say what she had to say. "I..." she began. She shook her head. "When we met that day in London on my way back from the hospital, I couldn't have guessed, even hoped, that it would lead to more long and honest conversations, on a more daily basis... and from there on to what it has become and to what we have become together. We've clicked in a way that I have never experienced before, and in a very limited time frame. I reckon that the fact that you were my professor and I your pupil and the fact that I didn't experience it with you before either are absolutely related. I got to see more of you as a person, because you let me in enough to do so, and I'm so grateful for it."

The silence that fell then wasn't necessarily uncomfortable. Minerva was in the younger woman's expression that she was looking for words to continue to say what she had to say. Since the Headmistress could tell that it was of importance to the brunette, she let her take her time. Tenderly she stroked her toes, as cold as ever, against Hermione's. That seemed to do it.

Hermione stroked her toes against Minerva's icy cold ones to warm them, as was their custom. "You know how warm my feet always get when we lay in bed together, and how in summer, I need for you to cool them down for me to be able to sleep comfortably. You know how I can't sleep on that side of the bed that is most close to the door since my childhood home was broken in and entered when I was only a girl. You know how I like to take long, forty-minute showers, with water just a tad hotter than I can bear, and how most of those forty minutes, I use to shave my legs and armpits as thoroughly as possible, because I can't fathom the idea of there being a tiny little hair left. You know how I still have to leave the shower as soon as my fingertips get remotely wrinkly."

Hermione smiled wider as Minerva pursed her lips ── long showers of forty minutes weren't an exception. Minerva didn't feel that it was hard to pick up on those small things. Despite the fact that they had not moved in together ── not officially ── when she wasn't working, Hermione was at the castle with Minerva very often.

"Similarly, you know how I can't eat my steak other than rare. I don't know how you can eat it as burned as you do. You know how very much I like cheese... and you know to stop me from having that one cheese cube that would result in my lactose intolerance being triggered. You know how I hate red wine but like fruity white wine, the way you know how I dislike condiments, like mayonnaise. You know how I like my underwear roomy and large and my shirts baggy when I don't have to work, and how very self-conscious I am when I wear skirts and heels and that I'm terrified of going down on my face with them. You know how I dislike people who always consider themselves better than everyone else and people who put other people down, while I really admire people who fight for what they dream of, like I admire you. You know I'm scared of spiders but not of most other bugs or animals, the way you know I'm terrified of somehow not being good enough and reassure me when my behavior alerts you of doubts I have in my mind, of fears... You know how I regret not having put more effort in my piano play when I was a girl and quitting my summer lessons. You know what my nightmares are about and what I dream of and hope for for the future, with you. You know all of these things that most people do not pay attention to... My mother doesn't know all of those things, even."

When the word slipped from her mouth, Hermione thought about her mother, still in the hospital, but luckily doing a bit better. She felt her throat tighten, and she felt the tears well up again ── tears a strange mixture of both happiness that she had been fortunate enough to find her soul mate and great worry for her mother. She felt how a warm hand covered hers, and she couldn't help but smile slightly. Minerva McGonagall knew her so well. She appreciated the gesture.

Softly, the Headmistress then spoke, "I don't know where you're going with this, darling."

Hermione blinked. Minerva knew her incredibly well. She sighed, bit down on her lip for a moment. She didn't speak for several moments. Then she took a breath and continued in reply to Minerva's query, "I know I'm not perfect. I know ── and so does the rest of the world, undoubtedly ── that you could do much better than a nineteen-year-old who hasn't achieved anything so far. Lately, I've thought a lot on it and... if someone can know all these things about you, and still stay, and still love you most..." She paused. "Do you believe soul mates exist?"

"I didn't until you," Minerva admitted, and a small smile adorned her lips.

"Oh." Hermione hadn't expected this. Minerva McGonagall was regal and serious, fact-based and cool-headed despite everything... and the last person Hermione would have imagined to believe soul mates existed. Their existence couldn't be proven in any way, after all. Then again, nor could it be proven they _didn't_ exist. She wanted to know how and why she believed in it, but that could wait really. Gently, she lay her head upon Minerva's shoulder. "I wouldn't survive it if I lost you, Minerva," she whispered. "I can't imagine it."

"You don't have to."

"You don't know that for cer──"

Minerva's finger came down upon lush but slightly chapped lips to shush Hermione effectively. "That's what defines 'soul mates', I believe," she spoke. "Soul mates are not supposed to be separated. I find it nice to believe in."

Put to silence, Hermione moved her head just a bit, to listen to Minerva's heart beat. The smile upon her face stayed, as she stroked Minerva's belly with a fingertip and felt Minerva's nose nuzzle her hair. Words weren't really necessary. The true beauty of soul mates is that they communicate without words, better than most do with many.


End file.
